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This is cringeworthy! And melodramatic.
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This was the first of many partings between Jeremy and me, and each one was as hard as the next, even after we'd broken up. My mom said it was preparing us for the death of the other. Pretty morbid way to put it, and I don't think she was right.
We visited Jeremy and his wife, Frances, in 2002 and saying goodbye that time was hard as well. Mostly because I knew I'd most likely never see him again.
The photograph is of Jeremy and his parents, taken from the bus window.
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I'd be surprised if we weren't expected to attend some classes. Isn't that why were in England?
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With all of this I love him I don't love him, it is no wonder we eventually went our own ways.
Jeremy has asked me to marry him. He did this afternoon. I said "yes". Why did I say yes? I am quite afraid that he is just a young boy in a fantasy love affair. I do love him. Engagement is a serious thing. I wish I had someone to talk to. Who could I speak with? It just hit me that Jez is only sixteen. When I was sixteen I thought I loved Gary. Remember how I planned on marrying him? Now Jez. Naybe I should let the "passion" die down a bit. I am really scared. I don't want to hurt him. I've hurt too many others. I think I am cursed with this plague that attracts boys until I push them out. God, I can't hurt him. Please, don't let me hurt him.
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Yes, Jeremy asked me to marry him and I said yes. The rest is pure fantasy on my part. How did I actually believe that I was "cursed with this plague that atrracts boys"? That is plain nuts. Maybe I wished that was so. Maybe I was thinking about Bob and Dan. Yeah, probably. Not a curse though.
And I was, what? Seventeen? Not even a year older than Jeremy. I act as if it were decades ago I was sixteen. Gaaaah!
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I've got photos of many of these places that I will scan and add to this entry. I made a scrapbook after I returned home, that is still intact today.
I did a little research on the variety show at the Palladium, and it seems that we saw the second iteration of Sunday Night at the London Palladium. It's possible it was televised. I wonder if I knew it at the time. I do remember, however, that the British National Anthem was played and I felt honored that the entire theater stood for a US patriotic song.
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I sort of remember calling and talking to Jeremy's mom - I remember his call more though.
I do remember the musical, though. I'm not sure I'd call it beautiful - but I'd not seen too many professional plays, so anything that didn't star classmates was good, I suppose.
I sure thought I loved Jeremy in this entry. I suppose I did - as much as any teenager can love another teenager. It was real at the time. Possibly the only problem with our relationship was the distance. We became different people during the time apart and when we got together it was hard to reconcile that person with the one we remembered from ten months earlier. It's sad though that I didn't care about the experience of being in London as much as for seeing Jeremy, but that is all normal.
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I remember writing this post and taking some photos (not the one here, I borrowed that from http://www.picturesofengland.com/) Of course the boy could not have been Chris Mealy, we were very far away from his home at the time.
Don't recall the comical art teacher from New Jersey at all.
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I remember being excited about the flight, singing "We're going on an airplane!" with Sue B. I don't really recall much of the flight except that the plane had two stories and Sue and I got up and walked around. We asked if we could go to the other story, but were told not in flight, maybe later.
It was pretty unbelievable I was there. Things like that just didn't happen to the likes of me.
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I think my Aunt Ginny and Uncle Jack gave me another $100 for the trip. Not sure where the other money came from though.
Obviously I was very excited about the adventure upon which I was about to embark. I counted eight exclamation points in that short entry.
Stephanie was the daughter of a friend of my mom's. She was one or two years older than me and was a kind of free spirit. She'd moved to San Diego either during or after high school I believe she married young (she must have been married at this time as her last name was different from what I remember it to have been). I remember being awe of her and her accomplishments at the time. I don't think I knew anyone who had escaped Elgin like she did.
Many years later my then boyfriend, now husband, and I visited her in San Diego when we were living in LA one summer. We had delicious Mexican food.
I had lunch with her mother over this past Christmas holiday and she said that Stephanie is still into her music. (I remember she was in a band long ago)
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More angst over love and Jeremy. This is getting a little old, but I imagine I really was confused.
My Grandma Patrick did, indeed, have money for me. Whenever she would dispense money to her children or grandchildren, she'd go through a unusual little ritual. She'd had a mastectomy years ago (not cancer, but for some reason the doctors removed one of her breasts - infection perhaps before antibiotics?) Anyway that is where she kept her money, in the padding of her empty bra cup. So when she wanted to give someone money she would ask us to come into her room and she would undo the top buttons of her dress, reach in her bra and pull out cash. I believe she gave me $100 - a huge sum for me back then.
Notice that I've begun writing the date European style.
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I don't recall these feelings at all. It was not unusual to babysit so long - I wonder who it was for this time.
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It must have been worry and excitement about going to another country and seeing Jeremy again. I don't recall feeling restless though.
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My memories of Prom are different from this. I remember acting bored, so much so that someone later asked if I'd had too much to drink because it looked like I was sleeping at the table with my head down. I was offended by the entertainment - a belly dancer. I don't even have a photo of myself in my prom dress standing next to my date - my mom forgot to take a photo and Dan claims the photo his mom took didn't turn out.
I'm surprised I knew that Mike and his date were going to have sex in the bedroom. I didn't know I was so worldly wise.
As for the letter from Jeremy saying I was going to stay in his house - I guess I neglected to write that Vilma's mother wrote us and said that "under the circumstances" I was not welcome at her house.
Looking back she saw that it was quite sudden. She only knew him for four days. How can you love someone you've known for that short time? they asked. But strangely she knew. She could. Although she asked herself a hundred times each day! Do I love him? She knew each time she did. It wasn't because he was from England, or that he kissed her. But something else. An attraction. A magnetic force pulling their souls together. Yes she loved him. But did he love her? With each of his letters she grew more certain of his love for her.
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I don't remember this angst at all. It seemed to me that I took the "love" at face value. Jeremy was my first real boyfriend. I find it interesting that I was so unsure. I'm also surprised I was still writing to Vilma.
Here I traced the bird pendant given to me by Dan T's father. It was probably a "dove of peace" but I labeled it "J. L. Seagull ?" I also drew some of those m's and upside down v's that kids used for birds. Finally I wrote out Jeremy's full name.
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This entry really needs no note. As will be seen, I did exactly to Jeremy what I feared he'd do to me. I waited 5 years and said, basically: "Thanks but no thanks. I've gotten tired of you."
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Ten days does seem a long time to wait for an airmail letter. I think that sometimes they would arrive much sooner.
I don't remember my mother telling me that she was sure I loved Jeremy. I'm surprised, but then, maybe not so much.
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When I think back on this time, it seemed as if Jeremy and I knew each other longer than a week before he left. I know I met him earlier - when Sue brought him to English class. But then, I don't think I knew Sue that well at that time.
We went to a movie (The Sting), went to a party (where we kissed and Vilma said something like: "Glad to see you are normal"). How did we have the time to fall in love?
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Have I even explained this whole thing yet? In the spring of 1974 a bevy of British grammar school students came to visit Larkin High School. We hosted them and they would, in turn, host us during the summer (with a few exceptions).
My assigned student was Vilma C. She was pretty, and tall and very mature. She worked with Jeremy's father at the library. She immediately attracted the attention of a few boys, some of whom I'd had my eyes on. First and forefront was Jeff. I'd had a crush on him since sixth grade and watched him hang out with other girls, but rarely me. He and I were beginning to get somewhat close until Vilma came. I went ballistic. (you laugh, but I mean it) I threw some major temper tantrums.
One day when mom was elsewhere, Vilma got a phone call from Jeff. I answered and he implied that if he and Vilma didn't get together he was going to kill himself. I didn't think to worry about his mental state. I just screamed "F**k You" into the telephone.
That must have done it for Vilma because she requested a change of host family. It also elicited a home visit from the assistant principal and a few other officials from the school. I'm not sure what happened at the meeting, but a question of my levels of rage was addressed. Whatever, it scared my mom.
I probably should have been banned from the trip -- I believe that it was up to me to find myself a host family, otherwise I would not be able to go.
I didn't know all of this at the time. All I knew was that five years of desire wasted when Jeff fell for Vilma.
I never told my mom that I said the "F-word" on the phone. It was so taboo it was unthinkable. (until a few years later when my dad worked for a trucking company and became part of the teamsters, but that's another story).
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Oh my God. Was I that blind to not see what was going on? No, I think I was just selfish. Dan liked me. He wanted me to go to the dance with him. Yet all I could say in my journal was how much I liked Chris. How could that have made Dan feel? And it gets worse later on.
Dan hosted Chris, but could not go to England for his junoir year with the rest of us for some reason. He ended up going later I think. I hung out with Dan sometimes. I remember once going to a party where people were playing a Lord of the Rings game. I'd thought I was alone in liking that series. (this was after this journal entry - by a year or so).
I don't remember what dance Dan asked me to that year. I'm assuming it had something to do with the English exchange students though.
I hate the kind of person I was, I said. What kind of person was that? Probably a prude - someone who never did anything wrong, and looked down on people who smoked and drank and had sex.
I'd forgotten about this particular day - the movie and car ride with Dan and Chris. I have no way of knowing now if this was innocent and they were comforting me or if it was some sort of signal for something I knew nothing about.
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I looked ahead in the journal and it seems as if I never wrote about the festival where I met Clyde S. Kilby. I believe it was entitled Bilbo Baggins' Birthday Party or something like that. It took place at Dekalb High School in Dekalb, Illinois. I went with my friend Jeff and remember only a few things about the day:Years later I dated someone who went to that school and was there that day.
- Jeff doing an impression of a butler (or slave?) from a Shirley Temple movie, dancing up and down the marble steps at the school.
- Eating poppy seed cakes
- Listening to Clyde S. Kilby talk in the auditorium and having him sign my book afterwards.
I must have ordered the map of Narnia - I had it for years, but somehow lost it. That's too bad because it is a collectible now.The Vilma fiasco will be described later, so no need to discuss it now.
I think Mrs. Dyson was the social worker at the school. I was considering becoming a social worker, and met with her to talk about what it took to become one. Because she was one of the few blacks on staff, I think part of my interest was to connect to someone of a different race than I was.
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As I typed the first paragraph, above, I was embarrassed for my past self. That's all I have to say.
Friday
11:45 am
I have a lot to write -- but not much time. I thought that my lifetime prolem of boys was solved when Greg came into my life. Why did I actually think something as crazy as that? He is a nice guy who I enjoy being with -- but that is all it can be. I thought that he was Mr. Right - but I forgot that my Mr. Right couldn't smoke. I have nothing against smoking really -- if someone wants to get cancerthat is their business -- but when others are presnet he should be a bit more respectful. Greg smokes and lets the smoke drift into my eyes and I become stinky. Why I didn't realize this before is easy to remember- I thought he was perfect. But now I can look at him through another's eyes. I am not writing this simply because he was at the game last night with Barb L.. I can see him in better light now that my eyes are not cloudy with "love".
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See? I hated being around smoke.
Love the pentultimate sentence. Yeah, right.
Barb L. and I were friends in grade school, not so much middle school and not at all in high school, although she was nice enough to talk to. I remember seeing them at the game and being surprised and jealous. Amazing how I lied, even to myself in my journals.
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Debbie and I worked at Ben Franklin together. She lived near where my dad grew up and knew some people my dad and grandmother Patrick talked about. Years later I'd know about her through my in-laws who lived on the farm next to where she lived. I saw her about 23 years ago working at the Jewel Grocery Store in Elgin as a Flower Lady. My then boyfriend, now husband and I talked to her a bit.
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As I've probably mentioned before, smoking disgusted me and anyone who smoked was someone I didn't want to hang around. I must have gotten to school smelling like cigarettes because as I recall, Greg smoked in the car and at McDonalds where we stopped for coffee and hot chocolate every morning. I let him treat me to the hot chocolate, probably thinking it was like a date.
